Ether (11 page)

            Ephraim kneels
next to me. “But why are we here Becks? This isn’t a nightmare, why did you
bring us
here
?” He stands, turning in a slow circle and scanning the
dream place.

            “I didn’t
realize I could bring us anywhere. I thought it was all you.” But I stand too,
turning, looking for, something. Maybe there really is something here my mind
needs to see.  Unconsciously I step back so that I’m standing back to back with
Ephraim. I feel his solid body press against mine and a little thrill goes
through me. We turn together, like we’re fending off some invisible attack, and
then something flashes in the shadows. “Ephraim,” I hiss.

            Something
dark and glassy glints out from the leaves of the forest. The rest of the
memory comes flooding back and the dream fills in all the horrifying details.
The twisted metal crushed against the tree, the smoke billowing out from it,
one door thrown open and the limp figure of a girl with brown hair fanned
against the pavement, painted in the dark reds of blood. A thick pool of it
outlines her body, a grimmer version of a chalk outline. Bile rises in my
throat. This is the place my dreams always try to take me, the place they
always would have without Ephraim’s gentle interference.

            But there’s
something important missing here. With an effort I wrench my focus away from
the blood, the strange position of the body, my body, and look around.
Something is missing, another body. Where is Derrick? I run over and haul the car
door open, nothing. There’s no body, no blood. I spin, and see it again; darkly
shining eyes in the forest. “Ephraim!” My voice shakes with hysteria. “I want
to be somewhere else. Take us somewhere else!”

            A cool mist
surrounds my body and whiteness blots out the scene, erasing both the vision
and the feelings. This place is calm, soothing and yet, still part of the
dream. Ephraim grips me firmly, turning my eyes towards his. “You’re safe with
me Becks. Now and always. Breathe.”

            He smiles
his slow, steady smile and the last of my terror melts away from me, becoming
as insubstantial as the place we stand. “We’re between the worlds?”

            He nods.
“We are. This is where you went next, after the accident. This is when we met,
and when my life really began.”  He takes my hand gently in his, holding my
eyes, “I tried to apologize once before, and you told me that anything that
happened was worth the price. You were just grateful to be alive, do you
remember?” I nod. “I think the price is going to end up being steeper than we
thought.”

Chapter 8: Tangible

            Bolstered
by my time with Ephraim in the ether, I’m together enough to face my mom so I drive
home after breakfast.  Mom is in full lecture mode when I get home, listing a
variety of supposed sins, everything from not having the consideration to call
her myself, to going to a wild party in the first place, to failing in my
responsibilities to my friends… Her emotions fluctuate from moment to moment as
she rants. The strange thing is that for the first time I feel like I’m really
seeing her, Evelyn Wade-Pierce, the person. Under all her lecture and anger she’s
worried and exhausted. A dark shadow rings her eyes; did she sleep at all last
night?

            So I let
her talk herself out, until she finally subsides into silence. I look her in
the eyes and say, “I’m sorry I worried you. It was a bad night.” And then my
bout of maturity ends and I rush up the stairs. I throw myself on my bed as a
hot rush of tears come pouring down my cheeks. I’m crying about of lot of heavy
things; my parents, Justin, the Numina, how complicated everything is. The life
I’ve always known is over and I have no idea how to fix things.

            The quality
of the air around me changes, lightening and growing warmer. I struggle to
staunch the flow of tears. My nose is stuffed and my face is probably reddened
with blotches. Crying always makes look sickening. The thought starts me crying
again, but this time it’s pure self-pity. A hand tentatively, haltingly brushes
across my back. “I’m sorry things are so difficult,” Ephraim murmurs.

            I push
myself up from the bed and meet Ephraim’s sparkling eyes. The anguish lessens
enough for me to smile at him weakly. “Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault. I
shouldn’t have told him. I know it all sounds crazy and he’s like, Mr.
Rationality. I just thought he’d back me up, no matter what. He’s always been
that guy for me.”

            Ephraim
smiles his knee weakening smile, “Maybe, I could be that guy for you instead.
What do you need; A shoulder to cry on? A confident? A boyfriend?” His voice is
teasing but I can see the gleam of hope in his eyes, “I could be any or all of
those things for you.”

            I look at
him, so sincere and honest and shake my head, “See now I know you’re not real.
No real guy says things like that and means it.”

            His smile
disappears leaving only the deep intensity beneath his teasing words. “Maybe no
human boy could say it and mean it, but I mean it. I’m yours. Anyway you need
me to be, I’m completely, entirely yours.”

            A shiver
runs up my arms and comes squeezing into my belly, which flutters in response.
But I don’t know what I can possibly say. Maybe sixteen is too young to have
someone pledge their whole existence to you. Maybe it would be overwhelming at
any age. I laugh nervously, “I could probably use a tutor then. I think it’s
not working out with my last one. Are you any good at math?”

            “I’m good
at everything,” he says and winks at me.

            So I spend
probably the weirdest day of my life doing something completely normal. I pull
out my school books and Ephraim and I sit together trying to catch me up. It
turns out he really is good at math, and history, and English. When I ask him
about it he gives me one of his inscrutable answers about multifaceted
awareness, whatever that meant.

            Mom pokes
her head in a few times. Whatever lecture she’s planned on gives way when she
sees me bent over a pile of books. Her eyes flicker over to the chair pulled up
invitingly next to my books, where Ephraim is sitting quietly. I tense as she
lingers but then a look of sympathy crosses her face and I realize she isn’t
reacting to Ephraim but to the conspicuously empty chair. “He’ll call
sweetheart,” she says, in her reassuring voice.

            My eyes
shift to the chair, and sweep across Ephraim from his honey gold eyes to his
pink lips and perfect body. “Honestly, I hope he doesn’t. I turned my phone
off.”

            She shifts
her weight on her feet, “Oh Rebecca. I thought I raised you better than that.
It’s cruel to freeze someone out. You need to face your problems head on, not
run away from them.”

            I sigh. I’m
not about to listen to relationship advice from my mom of all people. I want to
scream at her, ban her from my room, throw all the crap in her face that she’s
done but how can I with Ephraim watching? So instead I let all the warmth drain
from my voice as I say, “I really have a lot of work to do mom. If you don’t
mind?”

            But just
like every girl who claims she doesn’t want a boy to call, a part of me wants
him to at least try. I want the option to freeze him out or maybe make up. And
a big part of me feels disappointed and hurt that he doesn’t.

Monday morning has
never been my favourite but this morning a cool mist drifts in from the sea and
was blankets the town. Even on ordinary days I hate the fog, the way it mutes
the sounds around me and makes me feel both simultaneously claustrophobic and
isolated. Today, the fog is so thick that I can only see a vague outline of the
school from my parking spot on the far side of the lot. Chilly droplets cling
to me as I open the car door and step onto the concrete. The one plus side of
the fog is that Ephraim says it makes manifesting virtually effortless. He
appears beside me on the concrete and looks so real and vivid that I can’t stop
myself from reaching out. His arm is warm and steady under my fingers. He grins
and winds his fingers around mine, leaning close to me. “I could walk you in,” he
suggests softly. “In this weather, I can be tangible.”

            “Tangible?”

            He smiles
his best, tantalizing smile, “Visible, solid, like a real human.”

            It’s a
tempting offer. Appear on the arm of a stunning and mysterious stranger and wow
the masses. There are a lot of reasons why not, but with him looking at me so
intensely and offering me his arm with a flourish, I can’t help myself. I let
my hand rest lightly on his left bicep, feeling the firmness of his arm beneath
my fingers. He glances down at my hand and I feel a tingle run along his arm. “You
feel so vibrant.” He cocks his head toward the school. “I suppose we should get
you in there.”

            Just a week
ago I slunk down the hallway, cringing as everyone turned to stare at me. Now?
I almost strut through the doors with Ephraim at my side. On the fringes of my
awareness I hear the murmurings, catch the astonished and impressed looks, but
most of my attention is on Ephraim. He draws me aside in the threshold and bends
his head, brushing his lips ever so slightly across my cheek. “I won’t go far,”
he whispers in my ear and then he steps away and lets the door swing shut
between us. I turn away from him reluctantly, and realize the entire hallway
has stopped to watch us. 

            A smug
little smile paints itself on my face as I saunter toward class. I’m having a
cool kid moment, getting a taste of what it would have been like to really be
in the “it” crowd, rather than perpetually on the fringes. I can’t say I hate
the envious looks.

            My moment
of triumph doesn’t last long. At the end of the hall a knot of girls moves aside
and I see Justin and Matt. I can’t tell exactly what Justin’s thinking but his
emotions play somewhere between hurt, anger and confusion; the unholy trinity
of betrayal. He meets my eyes for a minute and then stalks away from me. Which
is bad enough, but far, far worse is the look on Matt’s face when he turns to
me. His eyes are cold and glittering with malice. He smirks at me, “Look who’s
all grown up and playing the field.” His voice is icy and hard.

            Dread races
down my body, chilling me from the inside out. I step closer to Matt,
scrutinizing him. His skin is a healthy, normal pink and his eyes are their
normal brown but the anger and the violence I sense in him are completely
alien. He doesn’t look possessed but somehow, I know he is. I quiver of fear
sneaks into my voice as I ask, “Matt?” He smiles; a broad, toothy smile that
makes him look like a predator. I shake my head, “You’re not Matt. You’re one
of
them.
Who are you?”

            The smirk
contorts into something even uglier, naked hatred. “You rip me out of my body,
almost drive me back into that eternal, ethereal hell and you just forget it,
move on, and go back to dancing? Maybe you’d like to feel what it’s like to be
peeled out of your body and sent screaming into the white void.”

            I gulp down
the bile rising in my throat. There’s something familiar about his cold,
hateful tone. I’ve heard it before, in the garden behind the party. And I saw
the darkness in Mark’s eyes as he tried to possess me. “Inteus.”  I stare into
his eyes, trying for bravery, but also finding it difficult to look away at
all. It’s like being asleep and trying to wake up.

            “That’s better.
You’ll have to excuse the liberty I’ve taken, accosting you in the hallway but,
in my defense, I’ve been trying to get you alone for quite a while. It’s going
to be so much more enjoyable now.” His voice is a quiet purr that becomes
softer and softer as he speaks. The world has narrowed down to his eyes.  He takes
a step to the side and indicates that I should follow him, “Shall we?”

            My foot
jerks forward in one halting step. As I move the air behind him flickers
wildly, like fireflies caught in a whirlwind. The light, fragmented but warm
and bright dazzles my eyes. I blink furiously, eyes streaming. When they clear
I can see Inteus standing close to me. Under Matt’s normal skin and brown,
human eyes there is a blue sheen, like he’s standing in club lighting. It makes
his skin look sick and distorted. I see it now, the signs of possession. And
with that insight, the hold he has over me crumbles.

 The
hallway is emptying rapidly. In a minute more we’ll be alone out here. We’ll be
alone and Inteus is so close that I can’t let this opportunity pass. I take a
deep breath and lunged for him. If I can drive him out of Matt’s body, I can
save Matt and myself in one blow.  

            Inteus
steps aside and I fly passed him, smashing into the wall as he dances effortlessly
out of my path. He turns and wags a finger at me. “Naughty, naughty, trying to
dispel me from yet another body, and I thought we were getting along so well.”

            “You can’t
have him,” I yell defiantly.

            He smirks
again at me. “I can
have
anyone I want. But I’m reasonable. Who would
you prefer me to take? That blond puppy dog of yours, I might enjoy some of the
fringe benefits. Maybe the jabbering BFF, imagine the fun we’d have braiding
each other’s hair?”  I barely hear his taunts. I watch him, inching one way,
than another looking for an opportunity to grab him. I can feel energy surging
through my body. All I need is one clear shot at him. I hear the rhythmic
clicking of teacher heels on the flooring. We are about to be interrupted. I tense,
ready to hurl myself at him again, if I have the chance.

            He moves
deftly away from me. “Oh well. I’ll make do with tall dark and handsome here.
See you around.”

            I’m still
standing, shaking with helpless rage when the heels click over toward me. The
teacher shoos me toward my class without much interest or energy. My feet move
mechanically in response to her urging but my brain is swirling. They have
Matt. They have him.

            When I slide
into my seat I’m prepared for a barrage of whispered questions but Mandy is
oddly silent. I steal a long look at her while Mrs. MacTab hands out an
assignment sheet. She is very pale and beads of sweat have collected on her
skin, giving it a sickly sheen. More to the point, she isn’t wearing any
makeup. Her eyes are completely unpainted, her lips a pale shade of pink I
haven’t seen since sixth grade. “You ok?” I whisper to her.

            She nods
vaguely but when Mrs. MacTab moves to the other side of the room she leans over
to me, “I’m feeling kind of, off. I think I’m coming down with something.”

            A month
ago, I would have believed her, but now, I can’t take that chance. Maybe Mandy
is sick, or maybe the Numina are trying to take over all of my friends. Inteus
certainly knows who they are. I think of Ephraim, pulling a tendril of the
ethereal power up into my arms. I felt the little electric buzz along my skin
as the power collects near the surface of my palms. I still don’t know if I’m
channelling some of Ephraim’s power, or tapping some deep part of myself, but I’m
starting to understand how this works. Ephraim said the Ethereals and the
Numina repelled each other. They couldn’t touch or interact in any way, because
their energies cancelled each other out. But I’m not an Ethereal and I can’t be
driven from my body by their touch because I belonged in it. I was born here.
But the ethereal energy in my body means that I could hurt them, break up their
hold or even rip them out and hurl them away.

            Of course,
the middle of English class isn’t the right place for an exorcism. So I pushed
a small tendril of power out as I reach for her hand, just enough to find
something out. I gave Mandy’s hand a little squeeze. She jerks bolt upright in
her seat and snatched her hand away. Mandy rubs her hand tenderly, massaging
the spot I touched. I touch my hand; it’s all tingles, like I’ve been sitting
on it until it fell asleep.  It’s a new sensation. I expected either the smooth
warmth of her hand or the otherness of the Numina but this is something else. Is
she possessed or not?